


Steal My Breath

by ljunattainable



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Claustrophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, salt-burn-porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-04
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-12-04 07:23:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/708081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ljunattainable/pseuds/ljunattainable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas gets claustrophobia.  Dean distracts him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steal My Breath

**Author's Note:**

> shimyaku (hybridshade)'s prompt for salt-burn-porn community on LJ 'Stole your breath away'

“This isn’t exactly the way I envisaged this going,” Castiel murmured, his head turning this way and that, to each side of the tiny chamber, up and down from the dusty floor to the low roof and back again.

“So? Just zap us out of here,” Dean says. He turns the torch Cas’ way, keeping the beam low so as not to blind him, forcing his face into planes of dark and light shadow. 

“I...can’t,” Cas turns to face Dean, his gaze intense, his voice mildly apologetic.

“Excuse me?” Dean forces out in a hiss.

“There are angel wards,” Cas says, eyes again scanning all the interior surfaces. He turns back to Dean. “I’m powerless.”

“Crap.”

“Indeed.”

Dean takes the one small step necessary to reach the wall that holds the door they entered by. He can’t even tell it’s there anymore; the stone of the door has melded seamlessly with the stone of the wall. He runs his fingertips over the surface. 

“Oh, well, this is just fine and dandy,” he says, turning back in to face the room. Castiel hasn’t moved from his position at the room’s center. 

Dean checks his phone, not expecting a signal, after all, they’re a good 50 meters underground and surrounded by mineral-rich solid rock.

Cas looks at him hopefully. “Anything?”

Dean shakes his head, and puts his useless phone back in his pocket.

“Sam knows where we are. He’ll look for us,” Cas says.

“Yeah, in a few hours, maybe.” Dean paces the chamber. He can walk all the way around it in twelve steps. “It’s cosy in here.”

Dean looks at Cas, standing stiffly, his arms tightly held against his torso, his hands curling into fists.

“You okay?”

Cas pauses. “I find it ... confining,” he admits. “I’d prefer not to be here.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“I know.”

“Well,” Dean says, turning back to the wall with the door, “I guess we should try and get out of here.”

~~xxx~~

Cas gave up after half an hour, but Dean is still trying; trying to ease his knife into the nonexistent gap between the stones, trying to find flaws under the dust, trying to hear giveaway hollow sounds when he knocks on the walls.

“Dean,” Cas says eventually. He’s two meters away, sitting against the farthest wall his knees pulled up to his chest. “Can we stop? You’re making me...nervous.” The last word is uttered like Cas has never said it before and perhaps he hasn’t.

Sighing, Dean turns, takes short steps to cross the room to Cas and sinks down beside him. “Yeah, you’re right.” He glances at Cas. He has a thin sheen of sweat on his brow. “Take your coat off, if you’re warm.” Dean’s already down to his tee-shirt.

Cas slips his coat and his jacket off his shoulders and folding them roughly puts them to one side. “The air is diminishing.”

“Yeah, I thought that too. Awesome. Trapped in an airtight room in a pyramid. I feel like Indiana Jones.”

“I understand that reference,” Cas says.

Dean huffs in amusement. “I should goddamn hope so.”

“Sam will find us,” Cas says with conviction.

“Yeah. I know.” Dean turns to Cas. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m fine.” Cas leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes.

“Sure you are.” Dean takes and squeezes his hand, checks to make sure Cas looks at him before he lets go. “I need to turn the torch off. We might need it. Are you good with that.”

There’s an almost unnoticeable pause before Cas answers. “Yes.”

~~xxx~~

“Dean?”

“Cas.”

“I’m very hot. Are you hot?” Cas sounds short of breath and slightly anxious. It’s disquieting.

Dean reaches his hand out the short distance to Cas’ arm and finds the thin cotton of his shirt. He traces his hand down the sleeve till he reaches the cuff and pushes the material up Cas’ arm before looping his fingers around Cas’ skinny wrist. It is very warm in here and the air is getting stifling but Cas is hotter than he should be, the skin burning under Dean’s fingers. Dean can feel a slick of sweat on the top of Cas’ wrist and the back of his hand and when Dean shifts his fingers to find the pulse in Cas’ wrist, it’s too fast. 

He slips his hand down palm to palm with Cas’, intertwining their fingers and squeezes till he has Cas’ attention, till he can feel Cas’ hot, short breaths against his cheek. 

“Take your shirt off. And your undershirt and your socks and shoes.”

“Will that help?” Cas sounds uncertain.

“It’ll cool you down, and that’ll help you breathe easier, so yeah, it’ll help.” Dean drops his hand and leans his head back and listens to the sound of Cas popping the buttons of his shirt, pulling his undershirt over his head, toeing his shoes off his feet, leaning forward to shuck his socks down and off. And when Cas is done, Dean reaches over again and slides his palm along the skin of Cas upper arm, over and round his shoulder and along until he finds the back of Cas’ neck. He massages the muscle gently in a steady rhythm. He feels and hears Cas’ breathing easing and slowing and becoming more regular.

He only stops when Cas says “thank you, Dean,” as if he means it. Then Dean reluctantly moves his hand away.

~~xxx~~

When Cas’ breathing becomes erratic, Dean finds Castiel’s hand and he holds it tight.

When Cas starts to hyperventilate, his pulse showing signs of palpitations under Dean’s fingers, Dean gets quickly on to his knees and he leans over Castiel and places a hand, fingers outspread, palm flat, against Cas’ chest to hold him still and to try and calm him down. Cas is trembling and sweating and Dean curses.

He moves his free hand, the one not in a death grip with Castiel’s, up to lie against one side of Castiel’s face. “Cas?” he says desperately. 

There’s no light. He can’t even see Cas’ eyes in the complete blackness of the chamber and he daren’t move to get the torch and flick it on. He leans further forwards and puts one knee each side of Cas’ legs so that he can be face to face with Castiel. Even if he can’t see him, he’ll be able to feel him.

“Breathe with me, Cas,” he says, leaning forward until he can feel Cas breath on his lips and knows Cas can feel Dean’s breath against his own lips too. He puffs against Cas’ skin regular and easy. He moves his hands to Cas’ shoulders and strokes his palms up and down Cas’ biceps in rhythm with his breaths. He runs a hand down Cas’ side, down his ribs, stroking him like a cat. He feels Cas’ shudder under his hands as Dean touches and caresses his skin, before the shaking gradually wanes away to nothing.

Cas’ breathing finally evens out. Dean breathes in as Cas breathes out. When Cas Breathes in, Dean breathes out.

They stay like that. Minute follows minute follows minute until Dean’s satisfied the panic attack is over. 

And then it’s the easiest thing in the world to close the scant millimeters and to lean in and kiss Castiel. To kiss him slowly, in between breaths, to kiss him along the plump flesh of his bottom lip, to kiss him on the line of his jaw, to kiss him down his neck when he lets his head fall back against the wall.

“Dean?”

“shh. Relax. Breathe.” 

This isn’t how he meant it to happen, their first kiss, but he supposes it will have to do.

He shuffles forwards on his knees, then sits back on his heels. Wrapping an arm around Castiel’s bare back, he pulls him against his chest. He slides his index finger up and down the sweat that lines Cas’ spine and lets his thumb bump over the ridges of his ribs. Cas slips his arm loosely and hesitantly around Dean’s waist.

Cas breathes against Dean’s neck and Dean breathes against Cas’ cheek, against the soft skin of his earlobe, and the little curls that rest just behind it.

“Feels good, yes?” Dean whispers quietly into Cas’ ear.

“Yes.” Cas shivers under Dean’s hands, though not through cold and not from panic. Dean smiles, feeling his lips quirking against the skin of Cas’ neck and catching against the stubble.

“Gonna make you forget, Cas. Gonna make you forget to be scared.”

In answer, Cas moves his hand up and under Dean’s tee-shirt. His fingers skate along Dean’s stomach and up his chest and blunt fingernails drag across his sensitive flesh. Dean’s breath stutter’s lightly in his chest. He pulls away to pull his tee-shirt up and over his head and flings it away to one side, then he gathers Cas into both arms and brings him in close against him, bare chest to bare chest. Cas is still too hot, still too nervous and Dean strokes his back.

He hadn’t intended it to go much further, had intended it only as a distraction to be followed up later, hopefully, but now he wants it all. He wants all the angel has to offer and Dean wants Cas to have all he is capable of giving.

Dean pulls back to change position and for the briefest moment, he’s not touching any part of Cas and Cas makes a sharp, scared, broken noise in the back of his throat. Dean reaches forward quickly and finds Cas’ arm, slides his hand down to circle his wrist, to wrap himself around Cas in miniature, to possess and protect.

He doesn’t let go. He doesn’t let go as he leans in to slip his tongue in past Cas’ teeth. He doesn’t let go as he sucks mouthfuls of skin from Cas throat to his chest, past his nipple, to his stomach till his mouth finds a perfectly formed hipbone and he suckles on it, lips either side of the curve of perfect bone and the thin layer of perfectly soft skin that covers it.

He doesn’t let go as Cas moves his hand onto Dean’s head, curling his fingers to grip and pull at Dean’s hair and arches his hip up to meet Dean’s mouth.

“Dean,” his voice comes out wrecked and hoarse.

Dean moves his hand to the catch on the waistband of Cas’ pants. “Cas, I want to…”

“I know.” Cas lifts his hips in encouragement. “Yes.”

It’s all Dean needs to hear. Heat pools in his stomach and his cock presses painfully against the zipper of his jeans as, still holding Cas’ wrist, he one-handedly undoes Cas’ belt, slips the catch of Cas’ pants, opens the zipper and presses the palm of his hand against Cas’ erection through the soft material of his briefs.

Cas groans. A deep, throaty, dirty groan that vibrates through Dean’s very toes.

“Fuck, Cas.” 

He kisses across Cas’ stomach, starting at the left hipbone and moving to the right. He kneads at Cas’ cock in slow circular movements of his hand while the angel rolls his hips to push his erection more forcefully against Dean’s hand. He strokes the pad of his thumb up and down the soft skin on the inside of Cas’ wrist. He touches, he strokes, he tastes.

He slips his fingers under the waistband of Cas’ underwear and slides the pants and underwear down. “Lift your hips.” Cas complies and Dean slides them down to Cas knees, where Cas kicks until they’re all the way off.

Dean shuffles in the dark till he’s between Cas’ legs and Cas shuffles forward on his bottom till again they’re chest to chest and Dean can feel the tip of Cas’ erection against his stomach, wet and sticky. Cas takes his wrist from Dean’s grip and uses both hands to undo Dean’s jeans and pull his pants and boxers down his thighs. And now their cocks are touching, bumping together, sticking together, hot, velvety skin against hot, velvety skin. Dean wants to grasp and clutch, to feel the combined weight of their cocks, his and Cas’ in his hand. Dean’s the one doing the harsh breathing now.

“God, Cas,” Dean says, leaning in to kiss him and butting noses instead. He slides fingers into Cas hair and holds on lightly, balancing himself on Cas’ head, while he stands up and steps out of his jeans and boxers, then kneeling back down, he leans in to rest his forehead against Cas’. “You okay?”

“Just get on with it, Dean,” Cas huffs impatiently. He sounds calm though Dean notices Cas hand is still seeking his to hold on to. Dean doesn’t comment, simply slides his hand into Cas’ and holds back.

Dean places his free hand on Cas’ chest and he pushes him gently back against the wall. He leans down and tongues his way up Cas’ cock, smirking when Cas wriggles under him. He twirls his tongue round the head, licking at the bitter, salty pre-cum before opening his mouth and taking Cas inside till he feels the head of Cas’ cock against his throat. Cas draws a deep long breath in and grips Dean’s hand harder.

Dean settles into a rhythm, bobbing his head up and down on Cas’ cock and he lets his free hand wander down to fondle at Cas’ balls, to stroke the skin between his ass and his scrotum. Cas is tensing and squirming under him and gasping Dean’s name in short breaths.

Dean leans in flatter and lets his own cock slide against Cas’ thigh, and he ruts against the hard muscle in rhythm with his mouth. He groans in the back of his throat and Cas jerks in response. 

Cas fingers clench and unclench in Dean’s palm and his other hand comes over Dean’s shoulder to scrape at the skin and clutch at the muscle. Dean can feel Cas’ breath hot on the top of his head as Cas leans forward and looms over him. He brings a finger up and sucks it into his mouth with Cas’ cock, coats it liberally in saliva and pre-cum, takes it out and down and under Cas balls and finds the crease of Cas’ ass, slides his finger up and circles the edge of Cas’ hole teasing at the rim.

Cas curses and arches and gives the filthiest moan Dean has ever heard. He pulls his mouth off Cas’ cock and wraps his fist around it instead and starts pumping hard and fast. He wishes he could see Cas’ face, wishes he could see him come apart but the sound effects will have to do for now.

Cas comes with a gravel-voiced lament. Hot semen spurts over Dean’s hands as Cas thrusts his hips. Dean keeps stroking slowly as Cas jerks his way through his orgasm and softens and relaxes. As Cas flops back against the wall, Dean shifts his hand to his own erection. Cas makes a half-hearted effort to sit up and take over, but Dean leans him back down. “Next time. This time was for you.”

Dean pumps harder, feeling Cas’ cum easing the way of his cock in his hand. Cas sits up and he leans forward and his lips find Dean’s collar bone and as he mouths his way along it, Dean gasps open-mouthed into Cas’ hair and he comes in hot pulses over Cas’ stomach and softened cock. Cas wraps his free arm around Dean’s shoulders and Dean feels his breath against his lips, Cas breathing in as Dean breathes out. 

Shuffling forward Dean finally lets go of Cas’ hand and after a moment’s hesitation Cas lets him but Dean doesn’t go anywhere, simply lifts his arms and wraps them around Castiel and pulls Castiel in and against him. For a moment, he’s glad Cas is powerless; he’s glad that he can relax and enjoy the moment because Cas isn’t going to fly off anywhere. It’s selfish he knows. He doesn’t care. He pulls Cas even closer, because he’s there and he can.

~~xxx~~

When Sam finds them an hour later, dressed and sitting on the floor leaning against the back wall, Cas is calm, and breathing normally but Dean’s still holding his hand. He doesn’t let go until they’re a long way outside of the pyramid and until there’s nothing but open fields, open sky and stars.


End file.
